Another snippet from another blog post by Leonie Dawson:
Over the last three years I’ve gone through Saturn Return, a dark night of the soul, the time to face everything so you can be reborn. I’m not who I was before. I chopped all my mermaid hair off. I’ve let go of a hometown, a way I thought life would be, a whole bundle of family relationships that were no longer working. Let go of my book collection, burnt 15 years of journals, sold and donated my art collection to the local nursing home. And moved.
And when I did, I found the life that was waiting for me all along.
From Is THIS What's Holding You Back by Leonie Dawson:
You’re brimming with good thoughts.
Beautiful dreams ready to come to life.
You’re ready to do it. Really ready.
You just know it’s going to happen this time.
You switch on. Click on over.
You go check Facebook, Twitter, your inbox, your RSS reader for that one bit of inspiration, that kick up the butt, that whatever you are waiting for.
And everything flips on its side.
See what someone else is doing.
Hear one remark that doesn’t fly right.
Get caught up in the latest drama, that other distraction.
And just like that.
Energy down. Inspiration gone. Self doubt sets in.
I'm thinking of dropping the anxiety class this time around. FPU starts next week. If I take both classes, I'll be at the Vineyard twice a week for nine weeks, and then once a week for four weeks after that, finishing out the anxiety class. And I was also thinking in the shower today... maybe I need to *reeeeeeeeally* focus on the financial crap this time. I started reading Starting an eBay Business for Dummies yesterday; dove in and opened up an eBay store (for $16/month). I had an eBay store once before and did okay. It was nice to have my auctions up that didn't sell as auctions as fixed priced items instead, so that stuff would still be out there.
And me taking a bunch of courses in a month never goes well. Last month I had two writing workshops and Radiant Goddess. This month, I'd have FPU, anxiety, Business Goddess, and Radiant Goddess. It's also supposed to start snowing around 3 p.m. and through rush hour. I hate driving in the snow because of the idiots... and all my back ways home are steep, long hills. I'd be stuck taking the interstate tonight.
I know... the anxiety seems like a big issue, but the financial part contributes to the anxiety. It's a catch-22.
I can't believe how AOL-like you've become. You remember when AOL was cool, don't you? Back in the early '90's, when it was known as America Online and had an insane price plan (five free hours each month; each additional hour was $2.95), so only the cool people who could afford it were on it. Oh, I spent many a night in the People Connection, hanging out in the lobby, having quality conversations with people like MrVillain, Souder, MsLizard, JudiB0316, BeatleFan, SusieKew... and others. We'd meet in a private room pretty much every night. And, yeah, I had hefty AOL bills. Oh God, did I ever. We're talking over $100 a month. Sometimes $200 a month. And I was 18 at the time. Used the money I had saved up for college to pay those bills; my parents never knew.
And then AOL opened itself up to the masses--and it got lame. Me and my People Connection buddies eventually went our separate ways, leaving AOL and didn't keep in touch. I never canceled my AOL account though; I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It was my first exposure to the Internet; I had so much fun on that service. I know. It's crazy. I dropped myself down to the cheapest pricing plan they had at that time and never logged on again.
Until the early 00's. I decided I was going to spend a Friday night on AOL. I was so psyched up during the day. Even planned to have a pizza party while hanging out online, too. Had the delusional hope that maybe there was some small corner of AOL Land that wasn't lame. Talk about delusional hope. All of AOL had turned into epic lame.
I'm not saying that you're epic lame, LiveJournal. You're just different now, sadly.
I knew when I logged in last week for the first time in almost two years that my friends' list wasn't going to be that active. The bulk of my friends have moved on to "grown up" blogs (you know, the WordPress and Blogger ones) and Twitter and Facebook. But I had the delusional hope that maybe... just maybe... nope. *sigh* And it's really sad. Because up until like 2008 or so, back when I lived in Cincinnati... I'd spend hours on LiveJournal every day between writing posts, and sharing things I've found elsewhere on the Internet, and reading my friends' list. I remember how LiveJournal was always my go-to website whenever I needed a quick break at Work #1 and Work #2. And those quick breaks always turned out to be a little longer than planned just because of all the activity on my friends' list.
(Happily, though, two out of three of my absolute favorite writing communities are still active! So YAY there!)
Yet I still love you, LiveJournal, and I'm not going to quit you. I lost my blogging virginity to you back in 2002, and there's too much of me stored here that I shouldn't forget. Yes, I know, I have my "grown up" blog, but I need my LJ. Especially now. You've always kept me sane, and the insanity's going to flare up big time these next few months.
I promise I won't let you get dusty again.
It matches my Twitter name and my web site (which is currently pointing to my LJ, until my site redesign is done).
It's kinda sad that I'm retiring smitsp. Like I said yesterday, I only use that name on NaNoWriMo (it's sentimental... even though I haven't really been on the site very much within the past year, I think the last time I was on there, they have your joined date listed in your message posts. I kinda like seeing my joined date as 2002) and Philly Blog (since it's a huge active message board, and I kinda want to be gender non-specific).
Oooh, I just Googled smitsp. I forgot I also use the name at BookCrossing, AllRecipes.com, and Apple support boards.
But there was a time where *everything* was smitsp. My email, my message board names (I even started out on Romance Divas as smitsp), IM names (well, actually, I can still be reached at AIM as Smitsp and Yahoo IM as smitsp2001). I even debated on doing smitsp.com as a domain name back when I was thinking of a domain name for myself. I knew I didn't want to use my first and last name, because I knew I wouldn't be writing under Smith. Wasn't crazy about smitsp.com. UniquelySteph.com came to mind since I've always been different.
What the hell is a smitsp?
It was my login name and email address I got when I got my free Internet accounts at UC back in 1993. Back when you could get an account on their VAX and Unix systems. UC does their login/email addresses as last name + initial of first name + initial of middle name. Obviously, there was a smithsl, so I got smitsp.
When I returned to UC in 2000 for four years of part time classes, I applied for a free Internet account again. No VAX. No Unix. It's now Bearcat Online. My login/email address? smitsp again.
How'd I become a smitsp2001 at Yahoo?
Some idiot grabbed smitsp. Pissed me off. I was like, "Who even *knows* how to snag smitsp?" I mean, if it weren't for UC, I wouldn't be sitting in front of my computer thinking, "Hmmm. I need a user name. What would be a good user name? I know! smitsp!"
I even checked. I entered all sorts of various passwords that I used, figuring that maybe I created a Yahoo ID and I just forgot. Nope. Someone else is really smitsp there.
Back during my AOL days... when AOL was cool because it cost like $5 million dollars an hour, so no one could really afford it except for cool people... smitsp never once popped into my head as a screen name. I was known as Pita Bread.
When I got an invite code for Gmail... yep, planned to be a smitsp. But, nope, didn't happen. Again, someone thought smitsp was a really cool email name to have.
I just looked over my Google search results for smitsp. The first two pages, everything there is me. With the exception of this... the second to last result... that's not me. I have not been--nor will I ever be--a 40 year old male. Again, I gotta ask, why are others thinking smitsp is a really good user name now?
Due to the problems I've had with LoudTwitter, I'm choosing the disconnect and deletion option, so that http://smitsp.livejournal.com will be an invalid URL for anyone who accesses my LJ that way. I'm hoping that will stop the LoudTwitters from being posted.
Those of you who get to my LJ through your friends list... you'll still be able to reach me that way. I'll still be on your friends list and vice versa. All will be well. :)
In case you're curious, see this post from yesterday as to why I've had LoudTwitter problems. I know a number of Twitterers who use LoudTwitter and haven't had any issues. To those Twitterers... read my problem, learn from it, so you don't repeat it. :) I still feel the problem lies mostly with LoudTwitter with how they handle deletion of LoudTwitter accounts. IMO.
I've been thinking about changing my user name for awhile now, since I don't use smitsp as a screen name (just at NaNoWriMo and Philly Blog) or as an email address anymore. This LoudTwitter mess just gives me incentive.
I don't want to post the new user name ahead of time since it's still available, but wanted to give a head's up to those who visit me directly via http://smitsp.livejournal.com
If you're one of my readers who visits directly, please leave a comment with your blog address or a web site where I can find you, so I can alert you to the new URL tomorrow. Thanks!
Sundays and Mondays... I can usually guarantee waking up between 6:00 to 7:00. Sometimes 7:30, if I'm really living on the edge since it's the weekend for me, and I can "sleep in."
A little after 4 a.m., I hear the garbage bag I left on the loveseat (for sorting clothes to donate to the Peppermint Pig) rustle around, then I get felt up. No, not in a sexual way. It was Mom looking for the damn TV remote. I was kinda lying on it, and I made some sort of annoying grunt-whine while nearly throwing the remote at her. (Yes, I've been sleeping on the couch every single night since I've been here because my bedroom is too far junked up, including crap piled on my bed. And the crap piled on my bed is Mom's). She changes the channel; keeps the volume on low.
I manage to get back to sleep.
Then, what turns out to be a little after 5 a.m., Dad wakes up. Few minutes later, he's pounding on the front door, slamming the door, pounding on it again, slamming it again. Why? There's a family of raccoons in the front yard. Okay, if they're not ruining your flowers, trashing your yard, or eating the gray cat that's been hanging around... LEAVE THEM ALONE AND LET ME SLEEP.
No, doesn't happen. The slamming and pounding continue. I'm surprised Dad didn't get one of his guns and started shooting at them. The raccoons run under the front porch. Mom said, "I hope the cat isn't underneath the porch." Ummm, if you don't hear any Kitten Cries of Death (tm), you can pretty much assume she's not underneath the porch... SO LET ME SLEEP.
And how the hell did Dad see the damn raccoons anyway? It was 5 a.m. It was pitch black. I mean, he had the porch light on when he was making all that noise, but before... how did he see them?
So Dad flips the porch light off, and sits down in his recliner. Mom sits on her loveseat--then grabs the remote and turns the TV up. I'm completely awake at this point, really not happy, but am acting like I'm still sleeping. TV is never turned down. It's after 5 a.m. in the fucking morning, I've only gotten four hours of sleep at this point, and the TV is up louder than usual for 5 a.m. in the fucking morning.
I go through these motions of sitting up like twice, pretending I'm fussing around, trying to get comfortable, looking all frumpy and groggy and uncomfortable... so she can get a fucking clue. The clue never happens.
So I get up, change into my jammies (yes, I've gotten in the bad habit of just crashing on the couch at the end of the day, every day, not changing into my jammies or getting ready for bed), and get ready for bed. Only I'm not going back to bed. I've parked my butt in front of the computer for the morning.
What's really priceless is that Mom came back into the kitchen as I was settling in front of the computer, and I was looking piss-ed. She was like, "Is everything okay?" I said, "Well, when you wake up to pounding on the door, and a louder than usual TV... no, things are not okay." Does she apologize? Does she get a clue? No. What does she say? "Oh. That was raccoons." Ummmm... did raccoons take control of the TV remote too?
I'm kinda surprised she didn't say anything about me being pissed. Because there's this thing here at the house: I'm not allowed to be pissed or angry. Or at least I can't show that I'm pissed or angry. It's always been that way--even back when I was living here before I got the Clifton apartment.
But what a fucking double standard with the noise. Seriously. There was one night... like 1 a.m. in the morning... I stumbled on some Cleveland Symphony concert on PBS. I was like, "Okay, I'll watch it. Nothing else on." Well, it's classical music. You run the risk of there being really soft, quiet parts, depending on the piece. This was one of those pieces. I turned up the volume--not blaringly loud, but loud enough so I could hear. Few minutes later, Mom comes in the living room to tell me she's going to bed, but then she grabs the remote to turn the TV down because God forbid I wake Dad up... who can't hear all that great to begin with... and who is sleeping in the bedroom... down the hall... away from the living room... and who has been asleep for four hours already and has another three hours of sleep to go. That's just RUDE and WRONG!
But it's perfectly fine and dandy to wake someone up saving God knows what from those evil, evil raccoons, then "blare" the TV.
And, no, there is nowhere else to sleep in this house, other than the couch. There's a reclining rocking chair here in the back room where the computer is, but it's currently got a pile of clothes from the yard sale and some Longaberger stuff piled on it. I thought about throwing it all down on the ground, then just deal with it later this morning, but then I'd probably would've been woken up again if Dad were to see it because THERE'S MORE CLUTTER ON THE FLOOR. I debated on sleeping in my parents' bed--I mean, hell, they're not using it right now--but since I got older and know that my parents have sex, I've always been creeped out sleeping in my parents' bed.
So I'm stuck operating on four "lovely" hours of sleep. And it's going to be a long ass day too because I have to take Callie to the vet this afternoon for her yearly appointment, which will involve battling Fields-Ertel traffic. The appointment is at 4 p.m., but Fields-Ertel pretty much gets congested like at noon on. I have no use for Fields-Ertel. I've always said they could drop a bomb on that area; just wipe it out. It's so congested and sprawly.
Oh, how nice... I'm in the back room and can hear Mom happily asleep on the loveseat, in the living room, snoring. At least someone can go back to sleep.
The following weekend, I signed up for a Twitter account and have been addicted ever since.
I even almost defended Twitter over on stephanielynch's LJ. Someone had left a comment (that I'm paraphrasing) about how she didn't understand it; how what she reads doesn't make sense. I wanted to be all like, "No, no, it totally makes sense, if you tweet the right way. Like, ummm, type in coherent sentences." Seriously, if you take out all the @replies that are in my daily LoudTwitters, my other tweets make sense. Unlike some people who follow me who either can't seem to type or can't talk coherently.
Daniel Johnson Jr.: He followed me on Twitter first.
Actually, with the exception of the Romance Divas on there, everyone has followed me first. I found someone in Philly who writes and sounded interesting, so I followed her, and then I found out that she blocked me. And I only know that she blocked me because that was when she was like the last Twitterer on my follower list. One day, her picture was gone off my list. Well, the only reason she could disappear was if she blocked me. To which I was insulted because I only block those who I determine are 100% spammers. I then rationalized that she was too granola for me, and that if we were to ever have met, we would've had nothing in common. :)
Back to Daniel!
Daniel is my favorite non-Romance Diva Twitterer. He tweets about work, home, life, shares funny web sites, podcasts, etc., and is very helpful and giving to others. I think I'm used to his work schedule now--in a completely non stalker way because he tweets when he's going to/from work--but there at the beginning, I woke up early one morning to do my obits, and there were no morning tweets from Daniel, and I was like, "OMG, something happened to Daniel!" It was a boring early morning in Twitter Land. But it turned out that he was doing a later shift that day.
Well, the downside (and I say that jokingly) is that he's into social media. One day, he posted a link to one of his Utterz. I was like, "What the hell is Utterz?" So I checked out the site, and was like... "No. Hell, no. Not another one." I vowed right then and there that I'd never get on Utterz.
This is where you're all expecting to read that I joined Utterz.
I haven't. Not yet anyway. But...
Went down to Clifton yesterday to load up the car with yard sale crap from Tom's basement. My iPod was dead, but I couldn't charge it because I was charging the cell phone in the car's lighter. (My car is not as spiffy as Mom's, who has *two* car lighters. Oooooh.) I pretty much hate terrestrial radio after becoming addicted to XM, so no radio. Didn't want to call Jeff since we haven't talked in a few days, so we'd have a lot to talk about, and I was driving. Didn't want to call Tom because I'd be seeing him in about an hour.
"Huh. Wish I was on Utterz."
Yep, I thought that. So I spent the rest of the drive talking myself out of joining--which I haven't joined yet. My big selling point for me *not* to join Utterz is: I'd be Utterzing while driving. You all really don't need to hear my road rages.
Seriously. I'll be talking to people on the cell phone, or I'll be leaving a voice mail for Tom or Jeff, or Jeff will be in the car with me, and I'll be all happy and chatty, and then some driver will do something stupid, aggravating, annoying, etc., and I'll just slip into road rage. Usually it's just profanity. Sometimes followed with: "I wish I had a gun." If people tailgate me on the interstate, I'm always like, "Oh, no you don't. Don't be riding my ass. You don't want to do that." Because I do that stupid game of dropping under the speed limit, then speeding up when it looks like he's going to pass. Yeah, I know, not smart, but I really hate tailgaters. Or recently it's been: "Look at him! Would you look at him! He must be doing like 90! Where's a cop when you need one?!" (I finally got pulled over last year for doing 80 in a 55 on 71--busted by aircraft--and have been jealous of speeders ever since, since the fastest I go now is like 70).
So, yeah, you all don't need to be hearing those Utterz.
So then I thought: "Oh, I'll start Utterzing once I get out to Philly." Because I won't have a car then. No road rage. But then I realized... I may have panhandler rage.
Plus I have to get over the whole idea of people hearing my voice. I've always disliked the sound of my voice, and people have (on occasion) have made fun (innocent joking, I hope) of the tone of my voice. Can't explain it. I'll sometimes say something, and a word or something will come out sounding whiny or emphasized somehow, and they'll make fun (again, hoping that it's innocent joking) of that. I also have a tendency to get really loud when I'm either pissed or excited.
Still, the idea that I even *thought* about doing Utterz earns Daniel a place on my People I Fondly Hate list. :)
You can find me right here.
I wasted most of yesterday trolling around on Facebook and pimping/tricking/whatever word you'd like to use for "decorating" my page.
Hope to meet you there!
I figured I did enough work to make me proud, so I went to the Whole Foods wine tasting last Friday night for a reward. Which I'm glad I did. I discovered an incredible white zinfindel which isn't sickingly sweet. I've always liked white zinfindel; my favorite being Beringer, but the bottle they served Friday night is something Jeff would like drinking, and he hates the sweet stuff. This white zinfindel has the sweetness to it, but it's more pure, it's not a syrup. The other wines were Blackstone wines, and they were meh. Their merlot was good but not wow, and the pinot grigo, chardonnay, and cabernet were all typical. (God, I sound like Miles from Sideways. :) ) I kinda felt bad; they had someone from Blackstone helping the Wine Guy, and I asked him if the winery who made the white zinfindel was connected to Blackstone somehow. He told me no, and then looked annoyed; said something like, "And that's the wine you like the best."
There was some non-moving/non-parental drama leading up to whether or not I'd go to the wine tasting, and I wasn't going to go, I was just going to drive around to clear my head, but headed in the direction of Whole Foods anyway. I'm really glad I went because the Wine Guy remembered me and was genuinely happy to see me. The Food Girl remembered I like to eat the appropriate food with the appropriate wine. It wasn't crowded like when I went two weeks ago, so I didn't have to worry about losing my seat. And, afterwards, I ran into Wine Guy back in their wine section. We talked more about the white zin he served; he showed me what they'd be serving next Friday (wines starting at $26)--and told me that if I like any of them to wait a few weeks because they'll always go on sale under $15); showed me a white wine he really likes (that he served last week at the tasting I missed), and then I learned what makes a white wine a white wine. At first he was like, "It's white, because it's white." I was like, "No. See, that label says chardonnay. This label says white wine. I get that they're both white, and I know what makes a chardonnay a chardonnay, but what makes a white wine a white wine?"; he even told me some pricing secrets. Really nice guy. I found out that he's been Wine Guy at Whole Foods for two months now, and that he's the one who chooses what wines they serve at the tastings. He said, "Stick with me, kid, and I won't steer you wrong. I had that done to me many times, and I *hated* it."
Only spent $15. (Two weeks ago, I did considerable damage between my purchases at Whole Foods and the Northern Kentucky Wine Festival). Got a bottle of the white zinfindel to take to Philly, and found a Taste of Italia magazine for Mom. I so got scrunge up the money for a bottle of Obsession Symphony (a really excellent white wine I discovered out in Philly; it's under $15) and a bottle of Evolution--another interesting white wine I discovered a few years ago at the Wine Cellar here in Cincinnati. The winery uses 11 different grapes, but the blend always changes yearly. So it could be really good one year, and really sucky the next. I had it once at the Wine Cellar; really good. I had another glass of it back during one of Jeff's trips when we went to Chez Nora; again really good. It's $18 for a bottle though.
Anyway, back to moving talk...
I also repacked the yard sale stuff as I was pricing them into junky boxes, so I could free up the plastic tubs I've been using for The Move, Part Two.
I did fill a plastic tub full of scrapbooking supplies for the move, and am trying not to think of where to put the stuff once I get to Philly. I knew I had a lot of scrapbooking supplies--and totes, for that matter. We haven't even deal with my rubber stamping supplies yet.
My albums and the majority of my supplies are from Creative Memories (I use to be a consultant). I'll never have to buy anything from Creative Memories again because I've stockpiled so much for my own use--and still have stuff leftover to sell at a yard sale. Which is okay. Because I checked out their web site last week to get an idea of what to price some of my supplies at, and their style is *completely* different from when I was a consultant/customer (late 90's). When I did it, they were into the bright colors, lots of stickers (usually Mrs. Grossman's--which I love), and die cuts. Now they're doing a more classic look. All of their stickers are made by them now (or at least branded by them), and they're watercolory looking. No die cuts; they're big into vellum.
Wait, I take that back. I'll probably still buy their albums because I like their album style. I'm just wondering what "true 12x12" means now, and how that'll affect the albums I already have, if I need refill pages. I've got some in my reserve, but I think I have more albums than I do refill pages.
I also have a pile of office supplies--God, more office supplies--piled up, ready to be boxed. It's mostly just computer paper.
I'm almost done pricing the clothes in a huge plastic tub. Once that's emptied out, I'll pack up more scrapbooking supplies in it. Yeah, I can hear the Creative Memories Consultants passing out as I typed that. "Oh God! You're putting your acid-free and ligin-free items--and photos--in a *plastic* tub!?!?!?" Yep. I am.
I started going through a box of scrapbooking stuff that's been stored in Mom's storage room. Turns out, it's more photos and memorabilia than anything else. And it's memorabilia from my time with Bob, my jerkwad ex-fiance from the mid to late 90's. I packed up the stuff with plans, at the time, to still do a Bob and Stephanie album. But now that I've had lots of time and lots of perspective... what a complete waste of scrapbooking time and supplies. Not getting into details of the past, but in short, he completely screwed with my mind, but in a subtle kind of way where you didn't really know it was mental abuse. This is the guy who told me to "pack up your writing stuff; you're not using it anyway" so we could have more space in our apartment, and sent me in a 1 1/2 year long bout of writer's block. This is the guy--and I came across this in a paper journal entry I found during my packing--who got pissed when I decided to wear shorts and my They Might Be Giants T-shirt and my Birkenstocks to dinner one Friday night... at Bennigan's. Never been to Bennigan's? It's like Friday's or Ruby Tuesday's or Applebees. There's *not* a dress code. If you show up in clothes and shoes, they'll serve you.
Granted, I was no angel either. I was lazy, unmotivated, and had gotten plump, thanks to his constant cooking with the Fry Daddy, and let my debt pile up to an uncontrollable amount where I had defaulted on all of my cards. I had no friends of my own; his friends were my friends, and even the most of them didn't like me since I didn't share Bob's interest (gaming) or their interest (getting married and popping out babies). I really want to say that the wives who'd do nothing but sit around in the living room on a Saturday night while their hubbies gamed oooohing and awwwwing over their children contributed to me and my burning desire to remain childfree. But I'll also be the first to admit that I've *never* had a biological clock. Never ever.
I was not in a good place back then, even in general. So I won't totally point my fingers at him, though he didn't help matters.
And I had no idea my State of the Steph was going to turn into a confessional.
I'm going to have lots of fun pitching the memorabilia. Wish I could get Dad to start a fire for me--he burns the stuff Mom wants to shred since she doesn't have a shredder--but then I'd be afraid why I have this need to burn things RIGHT. NOW. (Usually he wants until we have a box or a huge bag ready to burn). Unfortunately, I still have to get the rolls of film developed that I took during that time period as I'm sure I have lots of kitten pictures, and probably family holiday/special occasion pictures. But I can always do what I did to the one picture of Bob I found recently... tear it up into itty bitty pieces.
Yet I'm making slow progress on the packing, as usual. I'm definitely starting to see progress in my bedroom, but things aren't going as fast as I'd like, considering I have a community yard sale next Saturday (June 21). I have a lot of stuff to sell already--just need to price it--but yet I could schlep so much more, if I just get my ass in gear.
Progress in my bedroom... I've got my crap cleaned out from underneath my bed, and have moved some of Mom's stuff there. (My bedroom has become an annex of her storage room since I moved out, so that's another reason why the packing/sorting has been going so slow; no space to work with; no floor space to move around). I cleaned out all my desk drawers yesterday. I boxed up my rolling suitcase and carry-on. I'm going to wash my Strawberry Shortcake Halloween costume today, and box up my pen pal letters from when I pen palled in high school and stationery I still have. Logically, I know to get rid of the pen pal letters and sell the stationery, but there are some letters from people (maybe even try and get in touch with them; I found one of my old pen pals through a Google search... got her email address). I can always sell/donate the stationery in Philly, if I realize I don't need it. I mean, I'm totally going to have to have a couple sidewalk sales once I get out there.
I need to find a brightly colored plastic tub ASAP for the Important Necessities I brought with me to my parents. Somehow, the stuff I brought in the itty-bitty plastic tub has multiplied. I'd like a brightly colored plastic tub, so I can find this tub once I'm at the Philly apartment, since this will have Grant and Lauren stuff, my vampire story binder, story brainstorms I did while here in Ohio, etc. Plus, the itty-bitty plastic tub is the perfect size to pack the seven bottles of wine I bought last week between the Whole Foods wine tasting and the Northern Kentucky Wine Festival.
I still have a box of crap in the trunk of my car from April's move. I hope there's nothing that's meltable in there.
Writing: Still working on the condom scene revision. I can only do a paragraph or two at a time. And now I wish I hadn't entered the Reveal Your Inner Vixen contest with what I entered with. I mean, it's okay. I still haven't puked whenever I re-read it. It's just the revision is making it better--there's some condom specifics I didn't get right the first time. It still kinda sucks in sexual tension, but yet it's better.
I have five handwritten pages of plot ideas for a werewolf story.
Also, I never mentioned this anywhere, but I read Business is Blooming by Linda Carroll-Bradd last Friday, when I was killing time at Starbucks, waiting for the Whole Foods wine tasting, and got some plot bunnies for a story for that continuity. This plot bunny was handed to me on a silver platter, considering it involves an obit writer and a funeral home director. I thought I'd have more difficulty, that I'd have to have the Flower Basket play more of a part in the story, but it sounds from the guidelines that it can be secondary, so long as it still figures into the story. Like it can just be the thing that brings the hero and heroine together.
Though it'd help if they would get that Flower Basket Yahoo Group set up for those interested in writing that continuity. *sigh*
Goals: I'd like to get to either the Apple Store today to get an external FireWire drive, or IKEA and see if they have one of those little plate/trays that you can attach a wine glass to, so I can bring it with me to the Whole Foods wine tasting tomorrow night. I was the only "single" person there last Friday, and where they had the tastings was small (it's in their cafe), so it got crowded real fast. I didn't want to get all my food at once, since there were five wines to taste, and I wanted to try each wine with its appropriate food, so whenever I left to get in line, I had to leave a note saying, This seat is saved. Thanks! It worked. Got comments from those sitting around me how it was a great idea. But I can't expect the note to work every time.
There's no way I can get to both places today. IKEA is easily a time suck. :) You can't just go in there with a goal in mind. I always ADD and wander around the place. Grand Opening Day in March, I was there for five hours (but the crowd had something to do with that). When I went there after my dentist appointment in May, I was there for three hours--and my plan was just to stop in to have lunch. Okay, so an hour was spent eating/reading, but still, I spent two hours ADDing in the store.
(Have never hated the guy. That feeling is reserved toward Winblows and Bill Gates.)
1. Retooling iTools into .Mac; charging $99/year for it.
2. Discontinuing Flower Power iMac, thus making me sell everything I can within the span of a month so I could buy one. (W helped out too with that stimulus rebate check).
3. Having to get Panther just so I can access the iTunes Music Store.
Now we'll add a fourth to the list:
4. Retooling of .Mac into MobileMe
(Don't you just want to say "MobileMe" the same way Dr. Evil says, "Mini Me"?)
Refrain from telling me how I've been wasting my money for the past seven years on .Mac when all I ever use it for is the email address and iDisk, however, I feel like I more than got my money's worth out of those two features because (1) not many people have a .Mac email address, so I feel all cool like; and (2) I used my iDisk a lot more than I had expected. Back when I was gainfully employed, it wasn't uncommon for me to be on three to four computers during the course of the day (that includes Mollie). When I had downtime, I'd just open up the iDisk and work on my writing. I had gotten used to not carrying around a floppy or a USB stick. A couple months ago, my iDisk became Mollie's second hard drive, when she was running out of disk space, and I was getting geekedly excited about always staying connected to my iDisk once I got out to Philly and got high speed Internet. And once I got said high speed Internet, I was looking forward to checking out all the features I couldn't use on .Mac before because of being on dialup (not about to use Backup on dialup) or not having Panther. (Not being on Panther came first, then I upgraded last year to be able to use the Music Store again, so the dialup thing then prevented me from using the other features).
But, no, that's not going to happen now.
Apparently, you need Tiger at minimum--and specifically 10.4.11--to use the MobileMe tools/features. Granted, the iCal push would be helpful/useful between my iMac and Jeff's iBook (since I'll be using his iBook once I get out to Philly since he doesn't use it hardly at all anymore since getting the new Dulls at work), but my main concern was accessing iDisk.
I was told by a guy over at the Apple Discussion Forums: "What do you mean Apparently, that's too much to ask.
With the new service you will still have your .Mac address and iDisk plus a lot more great features."
Which, umm, you need TIGER (at minimum) for. The "great features" will be useless to me since I'm running PANTHER. Which I mentioned both in my message.
He also told me: "Instead of your negative approach to the new service have a proper look at it and see how you can use it to your benifit."
Ummm, I'm taking a proper look at it. Apple says I need TIGER, you doofus. Which I said. IN MY MESSAGE.
And, no, I'm not interested in upgrading. While Mollie could run Tiger, I'd rather not push her, and I still use Classic. I know Tiger can run Classic, but I vaguely remember Jeff having to do a couple extra steps to get it to run on his Tiger iBook.
I'm not even sure if my web site will still be accessible after the conversion. All that I found was that those sites published with iWeb (who have iweb in their long URL name) will still be accessible using the same address (or something along those lines). My web site is on homepage.mac.com.
I go back and forth on this. iDisk is nothing more than a virtual hard drive. I could access my iDisk even back when I ran OS 9.2., so logically, I want to say I'd still be able to use my iDisk once .Mac becomes MobileMe (God, I always want to type Mini Me), but then, we are dealing with the same people who said, "Oh, if you want to access the iTunes Music Store, you gotta finally upgrade to Panther." It's an online music store. Why the hell should it matter if I'm running Panther or 10.1.5?
I don't want to press my luck, just assuming I'll be able to access my iDisk after the conversion is complete. (I know. Go to the Apple Store and talk to them. Which I will because I have to go price external FireWire drives anyway). Every time I press my luck, I ALWAYS get a whammy.
Worse case scenario is... I've got to switch email addresses, find a web host, move my web site, put all my iDisk files on the external drive and/or the FTP space of my web host. Which I probably should just go ahead and do anyway. Panther's losing the Bookmark feature in .Mac (which I was getting in the habit of using). I won't be able to do the iCal push. I don't even use Apple Mail (I've always hated the look and feel of Apple Mail) for my email, so I can't do push mail between Mollie and Man Ray.
As far as using multiple computers, my main writing desktop is Molar Mac. He's on OS 8.6, so he sure as hell can't use .Mac. He doesn't even have a modem. He's got a Zip and a floppy drive. Mollie has an external floppy drive and an external USB Zip drive. George (my Powerbook 520c) has an internal floppy drive. Man Ray... he can use the external USB Zip drive, plus I had to buy an extra external floppy drive off eBay back in April, when I couldn't--and still can't--find Mollie's. I get the external FireWire drive, that's basically going to be permanent to Mollie as a backup/second hard drive.
It's not like I go anywhere anymore where I need access to an iDisk. I have a 128 meg USB stick, if I need to go somewhere where I can't use my external drives.
So, yeah, I should just let my .Mac membership expire in October. Still, not happy about it. Having a .Mac email address was way cool. :)
You can find me Twittering here.
smitsp was taken. WTF is up with that? smitsp was a user name given to me back when I got my VAX/Unix account at the University of Cincinnati back in 1993 (and then again whenever I decided to go back to school), and the name just kinda stuck for my Internet business. Since when did it become a popular name? I couldn't get a Gmail name with it, nor a Yahoo Mail addy.
I went to the Party Source yesterday to replenish the mini bar. I had wanted to have a fun afternoon out, but I was feeling funky, due to not doing any mega writing--I was totally kicking butt between chick lit revisions and writing short stories before I finally had to deal with packing up the apartment in March--and making myself take so long to get back to Philly. (Tailless Cat is completely going to hate me when I get there. She'll have the type of relationship she had with me with Jeff now, and she'll absolutely evilly hate me, like she did with Jeff whenever he came to visit. This is my worst fear. Well, that and gimping up the obit job.)
To get to the Party Source, I had to leave my parents' house. You know, to go outside and get in my car, and here's where the PTSD kicked in. *snark*
I stood at the front door, looking out, watching to see where the cicadas were. Even though I gave myself a pep talk: "It's not a swarm. Not like '04. And they're just big, stupid bugs. They're friendly. They're not like a roach."
Because, really, this...
... does not look like this:
Cicadas look like a beauty queen when compared to nasty ass roaches. I know this.
But the pep talk didn't work.
I did my duck and cover run to the car, threw my stuff in the back seat, while doing the ewwww-icky-icky dance because there was a cicada by my foot, just sitting stupidly there, but he was inches away from my toe, and I was wearing sandals, so it was like I thought he was going to eat me alive.
When I got inside the car, I had to do the inspection to make sure none got inside. NEVER MIND THE FACT WE DON'T HAVE A SWARM. Not yet anyway. I am convinced that we will, and it'll be worse than '04, and they'll still be swarming when I have to load up the moving truck in July.
Then I sat in a hot car, waiting for it to warm up, because I didn't want to roll down the windows.
Then I drove off, paranoid that a cicada wing was going to blow through the air vent. (That happened in '04. Don't you think I almost went off in a ditch).
Stupid fucking bugs. Stupid fucking bugs. Really, they are. "Oh, I'm so dumb and slow. It takes me 17 years to crawl out of the ground to have sex." I had my cicada experience, thankyouverymuch. It was not a part of my plan to have to go through this again fucking four years later. I don't even know where my cicadanator is.
The bugs are so stupid, they can't even get their appearance schedule right. Every 17 years, you idiots! You're only supposed to come out every 17 years!
In other news, my purse rental from Bag, Borrow, or Steal will be arriving today. Yes, I did this, partly thanks to the message over at Romance Divas awhile back. (Which, the majority of the divas poo pooed the idea of purse renting. I get it, but in a warped way, it seems kinda fun.) I checked out the site, found some purses I'd like to try out, maybe then think about buying. The one that's arriving today, it's still like a $150 or so purse on QVC, and it's no Chanel or Prada or anything along those lines.
Yep, you can call me Becky Bloomwood.
I've given up on analyzing each chapter of recent Silhouette Desires with the hopes of it motivating me to write Lilly and Hamid's story for the Silhouette Desire pitch contest. Analyzing makes my head hurt. I will never figure out category romance, let alone learn how to write it.
Take clothes to dry cleaners: Did that on Saturday. Learned that I will never be able to have my Titanic dress clean. I get down to the dry cleaners--in Newport, Kentucky--and when I got the clothes out of the back of my car, that's when I decided to read the tag on my Titanic dress. "Professional spot clean only." So I asked the dry cleaning lady about it. She said they only do the spot cleaning at the customer's risk. She said that there's a risk of material spotting. I was like, "So I'll never be able to clean this dress?" She said, "Yeah, pretty much." Then we joked about it for a few minutes. She recommended wearing Tucks under my arms and using clear deodorant, then examined the dress and said it still looked clean.
Luckily, I only wear this dress like once a year, but Jesus... never getting it clean? Ewwww. What happens if I spill food on it?
Update financial spreadsheets: Yeah, that Philly trip put me back in the hole as to taking out money for taxes next year, setting money aside for the debt snowball, etc. But yet, it's not as nasty as I thought. Not forking out money to my slumlord is helping.
However, I really wish Duke Energy would quit whining and wanting their $560-something dollars. It's amazing... when you're not a customer anymore, they start threatening "collection agency" on your ass ASAP. I'm working on it, Duke. You'll get it.
The $560-something dollars isn't because of falling behind on my payments while I was in the apartment. It's a result of the budget billing of one month, and settling up the difference of going off budget billing.